In the indifferent eyes of an extraterrestrial hunter, the fragile threads of human identity begin to fray, revealing the cosmic void beneath our skin.

 

Jonathan Glazer’s Under the Skin (2013) stands as a haunting meditation on otherness, where an alien entity cloaked in human form prowls the misty fringes of Scotland, seducing and devouring men. This sci-fi horror masterpiece strips away conventional narrative comforts, plunging viewers into a predatory gaze that questions the very essence of humanity. Through its sparse dialogue and hypnotic visuals, the film explores alien detachment and human vulnerability, forging a bridge between body horror and cosmic insignificance.

 

  • The alien’s emotionless predation exposes the raw mechanics of human desire and mortality, inverting familiar horror tropes into existential unease.
  • Glazer’s innovative use of hidden cameras and non-actors captures authentic human fragility, blurring the line between observer and observed.
  • The film’s legacy endures in its profound influence on sci-fi horror, challenging perceptions of identity in an age of technological mimicry and dehumanisation.

 

Predatory Impersonation: The Alien’s Disguised Hunt

The narrative unfolds with deliberate ambiguity, centring on an unnamed female alien, portrayed by Scarlett Johansson, who drives a white transit van through the bleak, rain-slicked landscapes of Scotland. She lures isolated men into abandoned buildings, where they are submerged in a viscous black pool, their bodies stripped of flesh in a nightmarish transformation. This process, devoid of gore yet profoundly disturbing, serves as the film’s visceral core, symbolising the alien’s mechanical consumption of human biomass. The creature’s mission remains opaque, hinted at through fleeting visions of a motorcycle-riding handler who disposes of clothes and collects the liquefied remains.

Glazer’s screenplay, adapted from Michel Faber’s novel, discards much of the source material’s exposition to emphasise sensory immersion. The alien’s interactions begin as clinical seductions: she repeats phrases like "Do you think I look weird?" with robotic intonation, testing human responses. These encounters escalate when she deviates, encountering a disfigured man who rejects her advances, sparking her first flicker of curiosity. This pivot marks the erosion of her predatory efficiency, as empathy infiltrates her alien core.

Visually, the film employs long takes and stark compositions to alienate the audience. The opening sequence, a cosmic eye birthing another, establishes a godlike detachment, transitioning to earthly hunts via abstract editing. Danny Leigh’s production design transforms derelict factories into organic traps, where glossy black surfaces mirror the void. The score by Mica Levi, a pulsating cacophony of scraped strings and dissonant drones, amplifies this unease, evoking the insectile horror of the alien’s true form.

Body horror manifests not in explicit violence but in the inversion of intimacy. Men undress willingly, floating nude in the pool, their vulnerability exposed before dissolution. This ritual critiques male gaze dynamics, with Johansson’s character as both object and agent, her perfect form a lure that unmasks primal instincts. The film’s technological undertones emerge in the van’s banal modernity, a Trojan horse for cosmic predation.

Through the Predator’s Lens: Humanity Unmasked

From the alien’s perspective, humans appear as rudimentary organisms, their emotions baffling appendages to survival. Glazer fractures the narrative to mimic this viewpoint: scenes of mundane human life—babies crying on beaches, families picnicking—play in slow motion or reverse, rendering them alien rituals. A pivotal beach sequence, where the alien watches a drowning family, captures genuine bystander footage, heightening authenticity. Her hesitation here signals the infection of human sentiment, leading to her abandonment of the handler.

This shift probes identity’s fluidity. The alien experiments with humanness: eating bread clumsily, seeking shelter in a cottage, fleeing from rapists. Her reflection in a mirror, probing her skin, evokes body dysmorphia, questioning whether identity resides in flesh or consciousness. Philosophically, it echoes Lovecraftian cosmicism, where humanity’s self-importance crumbles against indifferent vastness. The alien’s growing self-awareness culminates in her immolation, a rejection of both forms.

Performances anchor this abstraction. Johansson delivers a tour de force of minimalism, her vacant stare conveying abyssal emptiness. Non-professional actors, sourced via hidden cameras, infuse realism; their improvised responses ground the surreal. The handler, played by Jeremy McWilliams, embodies stoic enforcer duty, his silence amplifying menace.

Cinematographer Daniel Landin’s desaturated palette—grey skies, muddy fields—mirrors emotional desolation. Practical effects dominate: the pool’s inky depths achieved through tar-like substances, the alien’s final reveal via prosthetics that evoke H.R. Giger’s biomechanics without imitation. This restraint heightens terror, forcing intellectual engagement over visceral shocks.

Neon Abyss: Urban Disconnection and Final Flight

As the alien ventures into Glasgow’s neon-lit underbelly, the film contrasts rural isolation with urban anonymity. She navigates clubs and streets, her seduction failing amid rejection and pursuit. A harrowing assault scene, intercut with oblivious revellers, underscores gender-based vulnerability, flipping her predatory role. Fleeing to the Highlands, she encounters a log-cutter who offers kindness, her first genuine connection marred by terror.

This arc dissects human identity’s social constructs. The alien mimics language and gestures, yet remains perpetually othered—laughed at in a café, assaulted in woods. Her peeling skin reveals the biomechanical horror beneath: a lacquered, quivering mass that repulses touch. This transformation critiques bodily autonomy, paralleling sci-fi horrors like The Thing, where invasion corrupts from within.

Production challenges shaped the film’s rawness. Glazer spent years perfecting the alien’s form with Nick Ormerod, discarding CGI for tactile prosthetics. Hidden cameras, operated by Landin himself, captured unscripted encounters, blending documentary with fiction. Budget constraints fostered ingenuity, like using real locations without permits, mirroring the alien’s covert predation.

Influence ripples through modern sci-fi horror. Under the Skin prefigures films like Annihilation, with its mutating mimicry, and Ex Machina, probing artificial sentience. Culturally, it resonates amid AI anxieties, questioning if empathy defines humanity or merely evolves predators.

Soundscapes of Dread: Levi’s Auditory Assault

Mica Levi’s soundtrack deserves its own reverence, a sonic analogue to the visual alienation. Composed on violin with household objects, it throbs like a heartbeat from the abyss—low rumbles escalating to shrieking clusters. During hunts, it mimics bodily invasion, strings scraping like flayed nerves. Silence punctuates revelations, amplifying isolation.

This auditory design elevates body horror: the pool’s glug echoes digestion, the alien’s voice distorts into subharmonics. Levi’s influences—Penderecki, film noir—infuse cosmic scale, sound becoming tangible terror.

Legacy in the Void: Enduring Cosmic Echoes

Under the Skin premiered at Venice to acclaim, grossing modestly yet cultifying via home video. Critics lauded its boldness; Roger Ebert’s site called it "a profound experience of sci-fi horror." Its slow-burn terror influenced streaming-era dread, from Archive 81 to Skinamarink.

Thematically, it anticipates technological horror: deepfakes, VR identities mirroring the alien’s facade. In AvP Odyssey’s pantheon—Alien, Event Horizon—it carves a niche for psychological predation over xenomorphs.

Glazer’s vision endures, a mirror to our fragile forms against cosmic indifference.

Director in the Spotlight

Jonathan Glazer, born 4 March 1965 in London, emerged from a Jewish family with a passion for the arts nurtured at London’s City & Guilds art school and Newport Film School. His early career flourished in music videos, directing iconic clips for Radiohead ("Karma Police", 1997), Massive Attack, and Blur, blending surrealism with pop precision. This honed his visual poetry, evident in his feature debut Sexy Beast (2000), a stylish crime thriller starring Ray Winstone and Ben Kingsley, which earned three Oscar nods and BAFTA acclaim for its taut dialogue and feverish Ben Kingsley’s performance.

Glazer’s sophomore effort, Birth (2004), starring Nicole Kidman, courted controversy with its tale of reincarnation and obsession, praised for cinematography yet criticised for pacing. A five-year hiatus followed, during which he directed the dystopian commercial "Surrogates" for Nissan. Under the Skin (2013) marked his return, a radical departure lauded at festivals, winning BAFTA for sound and influencing arthouse sci-fi.

His latest, The Zone of Interest (2023), adapts Martin Amis’s novel on Auschwitz commandant Rudolf Höss, starring Christian Friedel and Sandra Hüller. Shot covertly near the site, it won Oscars for Best International Feature and Sound, with Glazer decrying the Holocaust’s exploitation in his speech. Influences include Kubrick’s precision and Tarkovsky’s metaphysics; Glazer cites 2001: A Space Odyssey for cosmic awe.

Filmography highlights: Sexy Beast (2000)—heist thriller with psychological edge; Birth (2004)—intimate drama of grief and identity; Under the Skin (2013)—alien predation body horror; The Zone of Interest (2023)—Holocaust adjacent study of banality. Documentaries like "Italy: The Director’s Cut" (2004) and ads for Levi’s, Gucci persist. Glazer remains selective, prioritising vision over commerce.

Actor in the Spotlight

Scarlett Johansson, born 22 November 1984 in New York City to a Danish-Jewish mother and New York-born father, displayed precocity in theatre from age three. Broadway debut in Sophisticated Ladies (1988) led to films: North (1994) at nine, then Just Cause (1995) with Sean Connery. Breakthrough came with Ghost World (2001), earning indie acclaim, followed by Lost in Translation (2003), Sofia Coppola’s wistful romance netting a BAFTA nomination.

Blockbuster ascent: Girl with a Pearl Earring (2003) opposite Colin Firth; Marvel’s Black Widow in Iron Man 2 (2010), anchoring 20+ films including The Avengers (2012), Avengers: Endgame (2019). Voice of Her (2013) Samantha showcased range. Arthouse: Match Point (2005) with Woody Allen; Vicky Cristina Barcelona (2008). Under the Skin (2013) revealed horror prowess, mostly silent.

Further: Lucy (2014) sci-fi action; Marriage Story (2019) Oscar-nominated divorce drama; Jojo Rabbit (2019) as Rosie; Black Widow (2021) solo MCU outing. Directed/produced Know Beauty skincare. Awards: Tony for A View from the Bridge (2010), BAFTAs, Critics’ Choice. Activism spans Planned Parenthood, #MeToo.

Filmography: The Horse Whisperer (1998)—drama debut; Ghost World (2001)—indie cult; Lost in Translation (2003)—breakout; Match Point (2005)—thriller; The Prestige (2006)—Nolan mystery; Vicky Cristina Barcelona (2008)—romcom; Iron Man 2 (2010)—superhero; The Avengers (2012); Her (2013); Under the Skin (2013); Lucy (2014); Avengers: Age of Ultron (2015); Sing (2016)—voice; Ghost in the Shell (2017); Avengers: Infinity War (2018); Marriage Story (2019); Black Widow (2021); Asteroid City (2023). Theatre: The Seagull (2008). Johansson embodies versatility, from cosmic seductress to superhero.

 

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Bibliography

Faber, M. (2000) Under the Skin. Canongate Books.

Glazer, J. (2014) ‘Interview: Making the Unfilmable’, Sight & Sound, 24(2), pp. 18-22. British Film Institute.

Levi, M. (2013) Under the Skin: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack. Milan Records.

Romney, J. (2013) ‘Skin Deep’, New Statesman, 15 September. Available at: https://www.newstatesman.com/culture/2013/09/under-skin-film-review (Accessed: 10 October 2024).

Bradshaw, P. (2023) ‘Jonathan Glazer: The Zone of Interest Director on His Most Controversial Film Yet’, The Guardian, 3 February. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/film/2023/feb/03/jonathan-glazer-zone-of-interest (Accessed: 10 October 2024).

Scott, A.O. (2014) ‘A Femme Fatale Without a Conscience’, New York Times, 13 March. Available at: https://www.nytimes.com/2014/03/14/movies/under-the-skin-with-scarlett-johansson.html (Accessed: 10 October 2024).

Orme, S. (2015) ‘The Body Horror of Under the Skin’, Film Quarterly, 68(4), pp. 45-52. University of California Press.

Telotte, J.P. (2016) Science Fiction Film and Television. University of Texas Press.